


Honey, I'm Home!

by Storygirl82



Category: Batman (Comics), Deadpool (2016), Deadpool - All Media Types, Harley Quinn - All Media Types
Genre: Adult Content, Adult Language, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Crimes & Criminals, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Dirty Jokes, Dirty Talk, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fighting, Fighting with sexy results, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Heavy on the smut, Humor, Love, Love at First Sight, Lust, Lust at First Sight, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Mercenaries, Romance, Sexual Content, Sexual Humor, Sexy Times, Shenanigans, Silly, Smut, Smutty, Sorry Not Sorry, The Author Regrets Nothing, The Misadventures of Parenthood, Trashy Goodness, Unplanned Pregnancy, Violence, harleypool - Freeform, light on the plot, psycho love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2018-12-26 06:35:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12053358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Storygirl82/pseuds/Storygirl82
Summary: To those who might say,“Hey Deadpool, you can’t jump from the Marvel universe to D.C., just so you can get busy with some hot wanna-be clown chick!”I reply, "Hold my damn beer."





	1. I Get Bored

**Author's Note:**

> **Warning:** This fic (ha-ha, I know nerd-speak) contains me (Deadpool), being unapologetically vulgar, swearing worse than a longshoreman and just generally Flamenco dancing over any and all, semblance of boundaries. So ya know, the good stuff ;)  <\-- *winky face*
> 
> Oh, and there’s some fluff and squishy cuteness…between the parts where me and my lady get it on like she’s a _working gal_ and I’m an overly enthusiastic sailor on payday ;) ;)  <\-- *double winky face*
> 
> And to those that may be easily offended; fuck you, I’m Deadpool! #burn
> 
> And yeah I don’t own either Marvel or D.C., but I do own myself. So go suck a big bag of dicks if you got a problem! #burnssogood
> 
> Although, I would like to note that I make zero money from this, or anything else with my name or likeness, because a certain group of fat-cats hasn’t yet seen fit to cut me a check for my depiction in their film (I’m looking at you 20th Century Fox), or comics (don’t think I’ve forgotten about you Stan Lee). #cheapasses

* * *

Hello there, dear readers! It is I, your friendly neighborhood Pool-Guy! Eh…maybe I should think up a better introduction…that one was kinda ripping-off that spider kid. Nah, fuck that guy! He’s a goody-two-shoes tool anyway. I’m stealing it…err…let’s call it _creative barrowing_. So, let’s try that again, shall we? Ahem!

Hello there, dear readers! It is I, your friendly neighborhood Pool-Guy! Apparently, a fuck-ton of you saw that movie they made about me. Hey, Tim Miller! I’ve yet to see a dime in royalties for that overblown, sack of Hollywood shit, ya flaming douche-canoe! Expect to hear from my lawyers! And Ryan Reynolds? Really? I am so much better looking than that dipshit pretty-boy, scars and all! 

Oh and tough-tits to those reading this, thinking Vanessa might make an appearance. Sorry to brake it to ya, there is no Vanessa. The hooker with a heart of gold doesn’t actually exist. Sorry boner-sporting fanboys! The movie writers totally pulled the concept for that character, straight out of their pasty asses, after watching _Pretty Woman_ late at night in their rooms (AKA their mom’s basements), one-too-many times. 

There might not be a Vanessa, but I’d totally be DTF with Morena Baccarin, if I were still a lone wolf. _Pssst!_ DTF means _down to fuck_. You can’t see it, because you’re reading, but I’m totally winking suggestively right now.

Anyway, just thought my adoring fans might want to know what I’ve really been up to. So about a year and a half ago, I decided New York had gotten about as exciting as watching a couple of old people try to fuck, without either of them braking a hip. Not that I’ve ever actually done that or anything…okay…I might have. Don’t judge me! I got the stink-eye for **months** from my former neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Horwitz, after they caught me hanging out in front of their bedroom window. 

I felt really bad for laughing when the Viagra just wouldn’t kick all the way in and poor Mr. Horwitz tried to go with it at half-mast. Seriously! It was like watching someone try to shove a half-boiled cannelloni inside an old, hallowed out, withered apple…that’s been sitting out in the sun for over a month. Hahahaha! I felt **mostly** bad for laughing anyway. 

Anyhoo, my point is, I’d gotten restless…and itchy…like a sweaty nutsack tightly encased in a pair of too-small sweatpants, in a hundred degree weather. There wasn’t much action to be had in the _Big Apple_ anymore. All the bad guys had moseyed-off to greener pastures. Funny how fast a whole team of squatting super-douches, with their own pet steroid-ridden Jolly Green Giant, will clear a place out. Their lingering presence meant all the lovely _undesirables_ I count on for work and entertainment had decided, for lack of a more poetic term, to fuck the fuck off. 

I was going crazier than a coked-out Wolverine and the old _crankshaft_ was starting to get some wicked friction burns from me sitting around all day, wankin’ it to re-runs of _The Golden Girls_. What? That Bea Arthur was a stone-cold silver fox! Besides, I had to get the hell out of dodge before those lame-ass Avengers got ideas about me joining up with them. 

The X-Men were already knocking on my door more than an entire congregation of Jehovah’s Witnesses. Didn’t need a whole other super-squad tryin’ to get all up on this! There wasn’t even anymore villain ass left to kick. What was I gonna do for the Avengers anyway? Polish Tony Stark’s jet and make sure Black Widow was well supplied with ass-hugging leather pants? Actually…maybe that wouldn’t have been so bad.

So one day, I was just hangin’ around, eating some week-old tacos (What? I like it when the shells get soggy). I was also reading these comics; about an emo rich guy, who had a major identity crisis and started dressing like a bat. This headcase then went around beating the ever loving shit out of a clown, who had a fucked-up mouth…which kinda looked like a stretched-out vagina. 

The bat dude did all of his clown-ass-beating with the help of his trusty speedo-wearing teenage lover, who had named himself after a tiny, delicate bird. I don’t know who the folks at D.C. thought they were fooling, but Cat Woman was **totally** a beard! Hey, I don’t judge. Whatever tickles their pickles. 

What really quipped my interest though, was Gotham City itself. If the comics were to be believed, it was absolutely fucking insane! Not only did it have copious amounts of _undesirables_ but they were practically running the joint! Bat-Bro and Speedo-Boy were totally in over their heads. Costumed loonies were practically oozing out of the dirty, shit-speckled pavement of Gotham and I just knew I had to get me a piece of that action. 

Besides, that vagina-mouthed clown had one smokin’ chick! Just looking at her picture, with her in that tiny _spank-me-daddy_ school girl skirt and those cute little pigtails, made me feel urgent stirrings down south of the boarder. _Pssst!_ That means she made my dick harder than Colossus’ shiny, chrome backside. That dillhole clown didn’t even know how to treat her and did some really fucked up shit, like beatin’ on her and messing with her head and stuff. Yeah, ole’ queef-breath badly needed a taste of his own medicine. 

So I figured that I’d scoot on down to Gotham and sell my professional services, of putting bullets through skulls to the highest bidder, disembowel myself a lady-hitting clown and maybe…just maybe, I could persuade miss Harley Quinn to play a rousing game of _Hide and Go Seek_ with me. Just to be clear; by _Hide and Go Seek_ I do in fact mean that I’d hoped she’d **seek** out my cock and that I would then proceed to **hide** it in her pussy, over…and over…and **over** again. Well, I suppose in that order, it would be more like _Seek and Go Hide_ , but that’s just kinda splitting hairs. Don’t ya think? Never mind. Sorry. Just trying to clarify here.

So after packing a duffle bag full of guns, my trusty stuffed unicorn, _Mr. Sparkles_ and my big, rubber masturbating shoes, I logged into the senior-citizen-fetish chat forum that Al likes to net-squat in. She’s always logged into that virtual freak show; hoping to land herself a young, virile boy-toy. 

I needed to let her know I was taking off and she’s not so good with answering my calls…or my texts. Even after I went to all the trouble of getting her a phone with a special brail keypad and hooked her up with a text-to-word program (not to mention the handicapable laptop I gave her last Christmas). Somehow Al got the impression that she has better things to do than answer my daily barrage of twenty five (or more), _‘So, watcha doin?’_ texts and instant messages. It’s just plain rude I tell ya! 

So I discovered, via a bit of harmless (and intensive) cyber-stalking, that Al likes to shamelessly troll for young dick here on this brain-bleach-worthy website. So naturally, I created an account just so I could bug her. She’s way more likely to answer here, because she knows that if she just responds quickly, I’ll fuck off soon after and stop scaring away the young man-meat with a thing for old, wrinkled puss.

_(Private Message)_  
**WadeMothaFuckinWilson:**  
_Blowing this wet-fart of a pop-stand. Not sure when, or if, I’ll be back. There’s plenty of greenbacks in the account I set up for you. Catch ya on the flip!_

_(Private Message)_  
**FoxyCleopatra:**  
_Cool. Whatever._

Oh and yes, there actually is an Althea (aka Blind Al). Obviously. That’s the one thing Miller’s steaming shart of a film got right. Although, our co-living arrangement ended after only a few months, because Al was just a wee bit high maintenance. She actually had an issue with me using her water pick to clean my **backdoor** …and I’m not talking about the kind on a house. I know right? What a diva! After all, what’s an improvised bidet between friends? 

Al also apparently had a stick up her ass about my using the mayo in the fridge as lube for my _‘special-adult-alone-times’_. She even had a bone to pick with me about wearing her bolder-holder bras around the house and this was after I did the right thing and fessed-up about taking them! I didn’t have to. She’s blind. She probably never would have figured it out. Sheesh, punish a guy for being honest! 

I tried to explain that they made excellent snack-caddies and that they even made it possible for me to carry around those fun, little mini-bags of chips (and even a couple cans of beer), on me at all times. They were a miracle sent down to me from the God of wrinkled, old boobies! But selfish, killjoy Al, wouldn’t hear it. She cruelly took them all back and ignored my tearful pleas for chest-accessible munchies! The blind old bat even managed to feel her way to the one I had tried to hide under my bed! Utterly ridiculous I tell ya!

So after I’d scored a mind-numbingly high paying gig (icing the head of a local crime family), I wasted no time setting Al up with a personal expenditure account and arranged for her to go live in one of those fancy-pants assisted-living facilities. It has access to a pool, a gym and even all the dime bags she could ever want! Apparently one of the orderlies runs a little side business. 

Al was remarkably stoic with the crushing news that I was giving her _das boot_ and didn’t even put up a fuss. I was in awe over how devoted she was to making the whole thing easier for me, by not crying or begging. That brave old battle-ax knew her tears would just make everything awkward, so she held them in. Al is just so selfless and strong. She even tried to hide her pain behind obviously fake, jubilant shouts of: 

_“Whoohoo!”_

_“Thank the sweet baby Jesus!”_

And a particularly regretful sounding:

_“Bye Felicia!”_

I think the old girl might have felt a bit embarrassed about how difficult she’d been, but ya know, I just needed a little space. Living with a neurotic roommate can be just soooo damn draining! You have no idea!

But we’re still great friends, Al and I. **Super** close!

 _(Private Message)_  
**WadeMothaFuckinWilson:**  
_I’ll miss you Al!!! xoxoxoxo_ ❤❤❤

_(Private Message)_  
**FoxyCleopatra:**  
_Yeah. Okay. Bye._

With a fond smile at my cherished friend’s touching, parting words, I was about to log out, when my private message alert dinged again.

_(Private Message)_  
**GrannyWitSkillz:**  
_Hi. Do u like toothless blowjobs?_

_(Private Message)_  
**WadeMothaFuckinWilson:**  
_Is the Pope Catholic???_

_(Private Message)_  
**GrannyWitSkillz:**  
_Ur profile says ur local. Want 2 come over?_

_(Private Message)_  
**WadeMothaFuckinWilson:**  
_Tempting…so very tempting…but I’ve got major life changes to make today. I’ll have to pass on the gum-blowie. Sorry. Thanks for the offer though._

_(Private Message)_  
**GrannyWitSkillz:**  
_Fuck u then. Peckerhead._

Well, that was rude! Apparently horny, old ladies are cranky as hell. With a shrug, I slipped my phone into the front pouch of my utility belt and pulled on my mask. It was time to be off like a G-string at a strip joint. Taking up my bag; I did a quick hop, skip and a jump, across universes and into the promising new frontier of D.C.. Sorry Stan my man, but ya gotta pay to play and just like that deadbeat Miller, you haven’t given me one red cent of my licensing fees.

When I arrived in Gotham, it was obvious that it was everything a young, wide-eyed merc with nothing but a gun and dream, could have hoped for. Yeah, so I had a **shit-load** of guns, rather than just one…and the katanas strapped to my back…and several knives hidden in my boots. I had even tried to hide some throwing stars in my underwear, but they kept nicking all my sensitive bits. I also had a sum of cash (sewn into the lining of my bag), the likes of which that would make even Warren Buffett do a double-take; but again, splitting hairs and all that. 

Apparently it was my lucky day! I’d stepped right into an absolute shitstorm and my trigger fingers were feeling awfully itchy. That was probably just due to me developing a wicked bit of eczema on both hands, but you get my drift. That psychotic, twat-mouthed clown and his goons, were causing some sort of hullabaloo at City Hall, just a few yards from where I stood. General mayhem and murder (two of my three favorite things), were rampant. 

Bullets were raining down on panicked citizens, like glinting metal party confetti. Some of snatch-mouth’s men were getting so confused, in the delicious chaos of it all, that they were even shooting each other! You can’t even make this shit up! About a dozen clown-masked idiots were already scattered limply about, on the blood-spattered steps of City Hall; discarded like used condoms on the ground, after a college kegger. In short, the whole scene was a death-orgy of awesome! I hadn’t seen action like that, in what felt like ages.

The po-po were already on the scene and they were being about as useful as tits on a nun. The green-haired slizz-face was gleefully showering them with slugs from what looked to be a purple and green replica of a nineteen-twenty’s tommy-gun…and the coppers were dropping like flies. Well, I had to give ole’ cunt-lips credit. He had undeniably sweet taste in weapons…and that’s not all he had sweet taste in. Ooh! Foreshadowing! 

Eager for a bit of a scrap, I dropped my bag at my feet and whipped out my twin Desert Eagles. I’d consequently named them Dorothy and Silvia. Gotta represent that _G-Girls_ love yo! Since I found myself already irascibly irritated with puss-face’s general existence; I began taking down some of the remaining masked assclowns; momentarily biding my time until I could get a clear shot at ole’ vulva-lips himself. It was then that my recently-dubbed third favorite thing, came rushing from the gaping doors of Gotham City Hall. She was a vision of absolute fucking _do-me-now-against-a-wall_ loveliness.

The illustrations in the comics hadn’t even come within the ballpark of doing her justice! I could only stand there, my grip on Dorothy and Silvia going slack, as I blinked in complete goddamn wonderment. My head suddenly filled with the sweet, soulful strains of Gary Wright’s _Dream Weaver_ and a record-braking chubby strained painfully against the unforgivingly tight material of my _killin’ suit_. 

Her red and black tip-dyed pigtails lashed wildly about her painted, porcelain face and she brandished a Chiappa Rhino 60DS, tightly in her right hand; her left feverishly clutched the neck of a red and white, candy-striped bat. Never before had I been so damn jealous of a piece of metal and found myself fervently wishing it was my flesh-pole she was gripping so tightly in that hot, little hand instead. 

“Eat led, ya pigs!” the cutie of my nastiest wet-dreams, snarled at the assembled cops, with a sexy-as-fuck curl of her red-painted lips.

I silently watched her open-fire on the fuzz and the world just kinda slipped into a dreamlike slow-mo. You know, like when Pamela Anderson runs out onto the beach in _Baywatch_ , with her sun-kissed ta-tas bouncing every-so-lusciously and you just sit there, watching those slow-jiggling sacks of silicone-packed fun…and you feel like all is suddenly just so right with the fucked-up cum-bubble of a planet we all live on. Yup, that’s exactly how watching Harley Quinn viciously shooting at a bunch of cops made me feel. It was magical!

However, I suddenly found myself sweating harder than a blind lesbian in a fish store and my heart was pounding against my ribs; as if I were a little Catholic boy sneaking a peek at my dad’s hidden stash of porn. That’s when I realized…I was in love! I’d never been in love before; had never even been remotely close. Not even with that hooker in Vegas a few years prior, who had gone by the playful little moniker of _Greazy Joan_. 

For a long-ass time there, I’d been totally convinced that Greazy had been the one who got away. So what if she kinda looked like a young Patrick Stewart, with long, dirty-blonde hair and a pair of misshapen tits? The thing that woman could do to a guy’s _smooth criminals_ using a bottle of honey and a can of _Easy Cheese_ , was the stuff depraved porno-induced dreams were made of! 

For months after going back home, I had beat myself up for leaving Sin City without locking that piece down and putting a ring on it. However, standing there that day, watching Harley attempt to make Gotham’s finest, closely resemble pieces of Swiss cheese, I realized that Greazy Joan and her honey/spray-cheese nutsack facial (or would you call it a nut-cail?) had been nothing but an insignificant blip on my deviant radar. Love, I discovered, was a hell of a lot different than being a fan of having your testecals slathered in pantry condiments. Who knew?

Ignoring a stray slug from Harley’s piece, as it bit sharply into the flesh of my bicep and immediately began to sting like eight bitches on a bitch-boat, I took a moment to reflect on what love truly felt like. Love actually kinda felt a lot like…when you need to piss like a mother-fucker, but there’s a goddamn _‘Out of Order’_ sign on the one and only bathroom in the bar. 

Then you just stand there helpless; pressing your sweaty thighs together and you’re doing the pee-pee dance (with the same awkward, hopeless-white-boy moves that were always your go-to at formals, back in High School). **That** , my friends, is what love is like. Well, love and when you just really need to fucking pee… but this was most definitely love! I knew cause I had already drained my lizard back at home.

“Oh shit! It’s the Bat!” I heard one of puss-mouth’s assclowns shout, just as the all-black-wearing, overgrown emo kid on roids, came flying in via one of his cool hooky things.

_I seriously need to get me one of those!_

“How ya doin’ Bats? So glad you could join the party!” ole’ cunt-lips sneered, aiming his sweet-ass tommy-gun at the pointy-eared wonder.

Bat-Bro said nothing, just flung one of his Batarang things right at slizz-face’s Tommy-Gun and sent it flying right into all the blood-covered chaos.

“Come on Harls! Time to make like a banana and split!” the idiot clown shouted, just as the Bat touched down on the blood-slicked steps of City Hall.

I stood there, gaping in total disbelief. Really? After all that sweet-sweet carnage, he was going to just puss-out because the Dark-Douche made an appearance? 

_Boo! Lame!_

What was even lamer was the dickless way queef-breath turned to run, with my girl at his heels. He paused like he was thinking twice about turning-tail and making a brake for it…then the sorry sack of dick-tips shoved my bae right in the path of the Bat, as if to slow him up! Luckily ole’ Pointy Ears wasn’t having none of that weak-sauce. He was hell-bent on bagging the green-haired dillhole and hopped right over Harley’s delicious, sprawled body to chase after slizz-face. (By the way, I totally saw up her skirt right then.) 

Good sweet lord, she had on tiny black panties with ruffles around the hem! My boner officially reached critical mass. 

“Just take it easy, Wade. Chicks don’t dig guys that cum in their pants like puberty-riddled losers on their first date!” I murmured under my breath and not so covertly adjusted my ole’ _purple-headed-yogurt-slinger_. 

“Shit’s goin’ sideways! Time to bail!” another one of the clown’s butt-boy’s yelled, which seemed to be the green light for them all to get the hell out of dodge; scattering like ants from a kicked-apart anthill. 

The remaining cops then decided to take advantage of the clown’s goons lowering their weapons, to take off running like little bitches, and swarmed. Fear suddenly gripped me by the short and curlies. Harley wasn’t moving! She was just lying there, her sexy as hell panties on display for everyone to see! Those were **my** panties! I mean, they were mine with **her** in them. I don’t rock lady underoos anymore. Not after that one time in Mexico…don’t ask.

Anyway, Harley was just lying there like a hot-ass sack of potatoes, the churning crowd closing in all around her. She must have hit her head when that son-of-a-clown-whore shoved her. Holy fuck-nuts Batman, she was going to be trampled!

“Hold on baby! Daddy’s comin’!” I shouted, holding Dorothy and Silvia up and at the ready; kicking, shooting and pistol-whipping my way through the blood-flecked madness.

“Come on babydoll, I got ya,” I murmured as I holstered Dorothy and scooped Harley up, one-armed, still clutching Silvia in my other hand.

“Merrrggg…” my face-paint-wearing angel slurred, her eyes cracking open for a split-second before rolling back in her head; her centerfold-worthy body going limp once again.

“Fear not fair damsel, your knight in blood-covered armor will save you!” I declared all-dramatic-like, for no real reason and slung her over my shoulder (angled so she’d fit right between the protruding grips of my katanas).

Trust me, the katana grips weren’t the only things _protruding_. Harley’s out-of-this-world chi chis were pressed right into my back! It was then that I wondered if I even had to shoot my way out with Silvia. I figured that I could probably just stab through anyone coming our way, with the mother of all hard-ons raging in my pants. I didn’t really try that though…that might have resulted in penile injury and I wanted my _Lone Ranger_ rearing and ready to ride when Harley regained consciousness.

“Out of my way fuckers!” I shouted, capping a few retreating assclowns that were blocking my escape route.

Damn, did I love the smell of a freshly discharged weapon! Oh yeah, I was so gonna touch myself later that night and was sorely hoping Harley would offer to help.

“Come on baby, let’s get you outta here,” I murmured to the sexy-as-hell dead weight on my shoulder; hopping over the collective of bodies littering the steps.

When I reached my discarded duffle bag, I holstered Silvia and snatched it up. Couldn’t leave my nest egg behind, now could I? That was some hard earned blood money! Quickly ducking into the shadowed cover of a nearby alley, I breathed a sigh of sweet relief when no one followed. I carefully eased my girl off my shoulder; propping her against the side of the building we were currently hiding behind, so I could make sure she was alright.

Yeah, I knew I’d have no problem cutting down any approaching threat like I was playing a rousing game of _Fruit Ninja_ and they were a juicy digital apple. However, in that moment, I knew I had more important (and far sexier) things to attend to.

“You okay, doll?” I asked, knowing a bae full of bullet holes equaled no play for Deadpool.

Luckily Harley was bullet hole free. The only thing that would be puncturing her would be **me** …later on, once I got her the fuck out of there. First I had to make sure she wasn’t hurt any other way. I banded one arm around her waist and pinned her limp form against the building we were currently hiding behind, with my body; to keep her from slumping over, my hard-as-nails erection digging into her hip.

 _Dear Penthouse,  
I thought it was going to be a day just like any other day; filled with murder and perhaps a bit of light mayhem…until I came across a bloodthirsty hottie dressed like a catholic schoolgirl gone clown-goth…_

Oh dear, sweet Betty White! Harley smelled like bubble-gum, grease paint and death! I quickly decided it was my new favorite scent medley and yanked off one of my gloves, so I could run my fingers across the soft-as-hell skin of her throat.

_Good. A pulse!_

Harley stirred slightly, the action making her glorious _party pillows_ heave against the ridiculously hot, wanna-be dominatrix, leather corset she wore. 

_Is it wrong to want to motorboat an unconscious chick?_

I ran my gloveless hand up the back of her head, making sure the pavement hadn’t cracked her cute little melon open.

_Nope, thank whatever God is responsible for sad, lonely guys finally gettin’ some!_

Harley only had one hell of a goose egg on the back of her noggin.’

“You’re going to have to wake up, baby. I need to make sure you don’t have a concussion,” I murmured, giving her a few light pats to her cheek; getting the white clown-like face paint she had on, all over the palm of my bare hand.

Oh well, I didn’t care. Fuck, I’d cover my whole body in the stuff and call myself Kellyanne Conway, if Harley was into that sort of thing! 

My little clown-cutie only fluttered her lashes a tiny bit; still not comin’ to.

“Come on sweets, I need you to open up those pretty peepers, so we can make sure you didn’t scramble your brains like an omelet, when your skull bounced off the pavement. If you do have a concussion, then we need to keep you awake. Ya know, I hear giving blowjobs is an excellent way to stay alert…” I ventured.

You can’t blame a guy for trying.

“Come on sugar tits, I really need you to wake up now,” I pleaded, with a few more pats to her cheek; these a bit firmer than the last.

Shit, I was starting to worry. Did I really just find the love of my bad Quentin Tarantino film of a life, only to lose her to a goddamn spill on the sidewalk?

“Come on baby! Wake up!” I begged, raising my voice and upping my pats to her cheek to light slapping.

“Arrrg…merrrffff…” Harley mumbled, her lashes lifting enough to show twin slivers of the bluest eyes I’d even seen.

They were like that really bright blue….I’d say almost the same shade as the blue raspberry Slurpees at 711. 

_Look at me, gettin’ all poetic and shit!_

Harley moved a bit, her head slumping forward; her forehead pressing to mine, through my mask. Her red-painted lips were only a fraction from my mask-covered mouth and parted in a clear invitation. Her bleary, half-lidded eyes were **clearly** saying _“Hey, how you doin’?”_

So I did what any decent guy would do; I took her up on her clear-as-day offer, lifted the bottom of my mask and pressed my mouth to hers. What? It would be rude to turn her down! Good, sweet ghost of David Bowie! She tasted like a sugar-rush combo of classic Bubblicious and those sour gummy bears I always ate as a kid!

_Is it wrong to slip the tongue to a semi-conscious chick?_

Harley moaned against my mouth; her sweet, slippery tongue stirring and slowly coming to do lazy loop-de-loops around my own. I pulled her closer; my defcon-one-level boner pressing right where it wanted to be the most, right against the plaid-covered mound of Harley’s _lady-cave_. Her arms came up to encircle my neck, pressing her pillowey _sweater stretchers_ snug against my chest. 

Man I tell ya, that moment…it was magic. It was everything I always dreamed the first kiss with the girl of my dreams would be like; in a urine soaked alley...with what looked to be a homeless man sleeping in a shit-streaked sleeping bag off to our left…

“Mmm…Mistah J…” Harley sighed into my mouth.

“No baby, Deadpool…or Pool-Daddy. Whichever you prefer. You should learn the name, kitten. Cause you’ll be screaming it **a lot** ,” I pulled my lips from hers to offer her what I’m sure was a debonair grin, with my scar-puckered mouth.

My little clown princess’s eye flew open wide, in what I was certian was instant recognition of having found the twin half of her soul.

**Bam!**

I went flying back; my mouth feeling like I’d been sucking on a lit cherry bomb. Don’t ask me how I know what that feels like…seriously.

_Man, how did I miss that she was wearing stun-knuckles?!!_

“Okay, start talkin! Who the fuck are ya?” Harley growled, as she stood over my sprawled body.

One of her booted feet lifted to press, rather uncomfortably, against my windpipe.

Ha! I could totally see up her skirt again!


	2. I Get Roughed-Up

“You deaf or somethin? I asked ya who the fuck you are, creep!” Harley snarled down at me, the heel of her fresh-off-the-shelf-at-Hot-Topic knee-high boots, bearing down harder on my larynx.

 _Holy shit on a shingle does her sexy-as-all-hell Brooklyn accent make my balls twang! I didn’t even know this universe had a Brooklyn! Huh, go figure._

“Errr…ahhh…hurrrg!” I choked out; her boot heel all but completely choking off my air supply.

 _Heh-heh. I can still see her panties!_

“Eh, nevah mind. I don’t actually care,” Harley shrugged a bare, creamy shoulder, reached behind her and pulled out a red and black Glock 43, which had been hidden somewhere on her ever-so-yummy personage.

The chick had a mean right-hook, knew how to put taser-knuckles to good use and could all but pull guns out of thin air! I swore right then and there that if she declared that she was into _backdoor stuff_ , I’d propose on the spot…well, as soon as I didn’t have a boot crushing my voice box.

“Well, nighty night, whoevah ya are!” my murderous little clown vixen sing-songed, pulled the trigger of her Glock, and let me have it right between the eyes.

If you didn’t know already, I’m one of the rare few who can be shot in the brain and live to tell the tale. Let me clue you in though, it hurts like an army of screeching mother fuckers on fire, and that’s even downplaying it a bit. 

“For the love of Pam Anderson’s big, fake titties! Why did ya have to go and cap me in the head woman?! Do you even know how fucking painful that is?!” I knocked her boot off my throat and shouted up at her; my whole head ringing as if I’d stuck it straight up the Liberty Bell’s ass. 

I shot Harley a withering glare (which I guess she couldn’t see, because of the mask and all) and sulkily wiped the blood and brain-bit spray off my forehead, with the back of my spandex-incased arm. She was seriously lucky she was so damn cute. 

A very few things chap my ass like being shot in the head. I mean, I’d rather take a sandpaper dildo up the ole’ poop-shoot than get shot in the head…and that’s really saying something.

“Holy Capoli! How the fuck are ya still alive?! You have a hole in yer head for cryin out loud!” Harley gawked down at me, her cute red-painted mouth gaping wide open.

_Oh boy, it looks pretty roomy in there! Something to keep in mind for later…or maybe not so later…okay, all is forgiven!_

With that thought, I reached out, grabbed the back of her calve and with a deft yank, had her sprawled all over me, like I was a freshly toasted piece of bread and she was a creamy pat of butter. 

_Mmm…toast. Why does being shot always make me so damn hungry? Not to mention, hornier than Ron Jeremy refereeing a topless volleyball match…well, I was already horny…but I’m even more so now!_

“What the hell?! Lemme go, ya freak!” Harley screeched as my arms banded around her waist.

“Aww, baby don’t be like that! We’re totally **made** for each other! Despite our respective properties not being connected…but we could totally get _connected_ if ya catch my drift…” I suavely informed her, with a saucy wink.

 _Oh yeah, the mask…I keep forgetting._

**Bam!**

_Dammit! I forgot about the goddamn stun-knuckles too! Maybe she wouldn’t have punched me again if she could have seen the wink…_

“Look, I don’t know who you are or why ya didn’t die when I shot ya right in the melon, but if ya don’t fuck-off right this second I’ll…” Harley growled, after springing to her feet.

“You’ll what, sugar lumps? Shoot me in the head again? While I can assure you that it’ll piss me off worse than Willie Nelson at an anti-drug rally, it won’t do much else. Allow me to demonstrate,” I replied, wobbling to a stand, on cooked-spaghetti-noodle legs and whipped Dorothy out of her holster, put her barrel to the right side of my masked head and pulled the trigger.

Yeah, so that was pretty stupid, considering I’d just yelled at her for doing the same thing and it made my already ringing skull reel like a merry-go-round ride during an acid trip…that is, if the merry-go-round was simultaneously being blown apart with a fuck-ton of explosives…but at least I had made my point. 

Also, I kinda liked how she was looking at me (all awed-like). Guess I’m not above doing stupid shit to impress a girl…then again, have I ever really been above doing stupid shit?

“For the love of the Olsen twins…and their duck-face Instagram pouts! That stings like…a **mother**!” I groaned and sluggishly wiped the brain matter from the side of my head with my forearm.

I got up off the ground about as fast as someone who’d had their entire body dipped in cooling lead. Funny, I didn’t even realize I’d fallen down. Getting shot in the brain is funny like that.

I staggered forward and motioned to the chunk missing from the right side of my head, “See…perfectly fine! Aside…from…the…disco riot…in my…skull…”

“That’s it! No more coke, no more nothin! I’m sick of seeing this kinda shit!” came a gravelly whiskey-ravaged voice from off to our left. 

“Tired of my brain fuckin with me…gonna go to that rehab shelter at the church and get me clean for good…” our newly awakened hobo friend grumbled, picked up his fecal-matter-spotted sleeping bag, and quickly shambled from the alley.

See? I’m a good-guy after all! Just doing my part to help clean-up the city, one homeless, filthy curmudgeon drug-addict at a time!

Harley only briefly glanced at our surly, departing friend, then focused her saucer-wide baby-blues squarely back on yours truly. Just couldn’t keep her eyes off of all this! I knew it!

“How in the H-E-double-hockey-sticks are you even still breathin? Are you one of them zombie guys, like from the T.V.? No wait, they die when ya shoot em in the noggin. So if yer not a zombie, then just _what_ are ya?” Harley gaped at me, with a look that shifted from being totally horrified, to kinda impressed.

Yeah, so it wasn’t exactly the look of love-struck devotion that I was hoping for, but I’d take it. I’m easy like that. *wink*

“Oh, lil ole me? I’m just a science experiment gone bad, but in your case, I can make an exception and be very, **very** good,” I leered, my mind already swimming back into deviant focus.

The tell-tale burning itch, signifying my skin, bone and brain tissue were knitting back together, began to radiate from both headshot wounds.

 _Plink!_

The slug from Harley’s Rhino that embedded in my arm, a few moments prior, hit the pavement; my super-freak body expelled it like it was a claws-out Wolverine in a blow-up doll factory. The two currently lodged in my brain would soon follow. 

Harley gawked at the fallen bullet, her disbelieving eyes retracing its descent up to the hole in my suit, to the rapidly closing wound on my bicep.

“D-did yer body just push out a freakin bullet?! Ah-are you healin yerself?!” my clown-cutie exclaimed, taking a cautious, yet a bit eager, step towards me. 

She then quickly took another step…and another…and another after that.

 _Oh yeah, baby! Come to papa!_

“Christ on a crackah! You **are** healin yerself! That’s the coolest damn thing I evah did see! And that’s really sayin somethin because I once saw Mistah J. kill the D.A. with a rubbah chicken!” Harley cried with evident excitement and tentatively traced the all but closed bullet wound with the tip of the black lacquered nail of her pointer finger.

I couldn’t help but shiver at the light touch and wonder what it would feel like to have her scratching up my back with those nails like we were the stars of a bad late-night Cinemax skin-flick. 

“Whoa, look! This one's startin ta close up too!” Harley marveled, pointing to the hole between my eyes then clapping her hands with evident delight. 

My stomach did a weird stuttering flip-flop thing when I saw how excited she was. It was kinda like the time I rode the Cyclone at Coney Island, one too many times, after eating a crap-ton of chili-dogs…except without the puking. Holy brass balls, was she cute when she was enthused about something! 

Her red-painted mouth was stretched in a wide gin; an adorable-as-all-hell set of dimples flashed at me through the thin mask of her white grease paint. My heart mimicked my flip-flopping gut. Yup, I had it bad.

“Okay, I gotta know…can I play with ya? I mean, how many opportunities does a gal get ta see an indestructible man in action?” Harley grinned all the wider and for a second there, I thought the _play_ she was referring to would be of the naked, skin slapping on skin, variety and was all too eager to nod my head in an exuberant _yes, dear sweet baby Jesus, yes!_.

Unfortunately, that’s **not** what she’d meant, as I soon learned when she reached down and pulled out a five-inch throwing blade from her boot. 

“May I?” Harley asked, her pretty blue eyes wide and hopeful.

_Shit…this is gonna hurt Wade…_

But how could I refuse when she was giving me the big doe-eyes? 

“Fine…but just throwing. No cutting into. I’m not a cake. You get a few throws, and that’s it,” I grumbled, liking the idea of my kind of play **so** much better.

“Oh goody!” Harley giggled and clapped her hands again, “Bay-bee, you’re the best!”

_Hehehe, she called me baby!_

Yeah, I probably should have been more concerned that she was about to throw a knife at me, rather than her use of a generic pet name, but hey, a guy’s gotta take his wins where he can. 

Giving me a saucy wink, Harley put the knife between her teeth, clenching it in place with her pearly-whites. Before I could so much as question her actions, my little clown vixen broke out into a series of grade-A-pro backflips, tumbling her way further back into the alley. Seriously, those _Cirque Du Soleil_ losers got nothing on my girl!

“Ta-dah! Had to get some distance! If I’m gonna do this, I bettah do it right!” Harley called to me, ceasing her sexy backwards summersaults when she was about thirty feet down the alley. 

“Kay, here I go!” she sing-songed.

_Oh joy…why am I letting her do this again?_

With a skipping hop, Harley’s right fist (clutching the dagger) shot back, and within half a blink, the knife was hurtling through the air like a sharp, hurty missile of pain.

_Thud!_

The knife lodged squarely in my left shoulder, the whole thing vibrating with the force of impact, setting my nerves on fire with white-hot ouchiness.

“Son of a whore! That stings!” I grit out between clenched teeth.

“Aww, don’t be such a cry-baby! Ya got shot in the melon twice! This ain’t nothin!” Harley skipped up to me with a wide, self-satisfied grin.

“Speakin a' which, yer head-holes are already lookin a lot bettah. Can’t even see yer brain no more,” Harley marveled, coming close to trace a finger over the fast-healing hole between my eyes, then the rapidly closing one on the side of my head. 

Again, I couldn’t help but shiver at her touch. Just that feather-light brushing of her hand, made my _smooth criminals_ pull tight and the ole _one-eyed solider_ stand and salute. Even with a head full of holes and a knife sticking out of my shoulder like a meat thermometer in a glazed ham, Harley made me want to-

“Again!” my clown princess cried with sadistic glee flashing brightly in those crazy, crazy eyes.

Without warning, Harley braced her hand against my uninjured shoulder and yanked her dagger free from my flesh with a wet _squelch_. 

“Great Creaser’s nut-hair, that smarts!” I gasped, feeling both just a teensy bit violated and oddly aroused.

“Aww, hush. It’s only a scratch, cupcake,” Harley admonished teasingly.

As always, when this sort of thing happened, there was an initial gush of blood, but within seconds, it stopped; as if someone had abruptly turned off a faucet. Then came the healing burn of regeneration.

“Neato!” Harley grinned with excitement-mingled wonder, as she watched the edges of the knife wound begin to knit themselves back together.

“Gonna try a lower area this time!” she announced cheerily, before hastily swiping her knife clean on her skirt, tucking it between her teeth and repeating her bad-ass acrobatics back down the alley.

“Wait, how low are we talking here? Cause stabbing a guy in the meat and taters is just plain fucked-up!” I shouted, instinctively covering the ole _womb broom_ with both hands.

“Don’t worry, yer little general ain’t the target!” she called back. 

“Who said anything about him being little?! And by the way, I’ll have you know the nice ladies at the Bunny Ranch didn’t nickname me _Long Dong Silver_ for nothing!” I shot back, feeling relatively miffed that she dared to insinuate my _Washington Monument_ was anything less than magnificent.

A guy’s gotta have his pride ya know!

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Harley sighed with an exaggerated roll of her eyes, “I’m sure you’re packin a real torpedo in yer trousers. Does that soothe yer cave-man ego?”

“Not, nearly as much as having you say that with a little less clothes on, and **a lot** less attitude, would!” I shot back.

_Thwack!_

Her only response was hurling her knife right at my gut.

“Son of a cock-goblin!” I groaned between clenched teeth, “You could have at least warned me, ya know!”

Harley only shrugged and began skipping, back towards me from across the alley.

“Well cupcake, it’s been real, but I gotta scoot. Gotta go find Mistah J. and make sure Batsy didn’t stick em back in the pokey,” Harley informed me breezily, as she yanked her knife free of my bleeding gut as if she were plucking a cheese knife from a wheel of brie.

 **Really?!** She was going to just run on back to the green-haired douche nugget, after what he pulled? More like what he’d **been** pulling! Granted Harley might not know just how her spill on the sidewalk had gone down, but according to those comics I’d read, he’d been treating her like a well-used shit-rag for quite a while.

The thought of my girl going back to all that fuckery made my blood boil. Hell, I practically had steam coming out of my ears, like some kind of old-school cartoon character! She was **mine** goddammit, even if she didn’t know it yet. There wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell I was going to just let her waltz on back to ole slizz-face as if the way he treated her was just A-Okay! 

_Nope, not gonna happen!_

“I hope the Bat did a hell of a lot more to him than stick his greasy-ass in the slammer! Personally, I’d stick a Batarang so far up his puckered, pale asshole I could pick his nasty-ass yellow teeth with it from right inside his fucked-up mouth!” I bit out through my clenched jaw, as the burn of regeneration flared fiercely in my gut.

Yeah…not exactly smooth or gentle, but at least Harley’s retreating steps froze in place; her pigtails whirling as she whipped around to face me. White-hot fury was burning in her baby-blues, and she was giving me the kind of look that makes a guy thank the divine powers that be that a glare alone can’t peel the flesh right from his bones.

“What did you say bout my puddin?!” Harley growled from low in her throat.

Damn, she was sexy when she was good and pissed. Then again, when wasn’t my clown-cutie hotter than the pits of Mordor? 

_I’d like to put something much different than a ring in her though…dammit, focus Wade!_

“Your _Puddin_ shoved you in the way of the Bat, just to buy himself some time. You hit your head, passed out cold, and the oozing bag of donkey-cum just left you there to get trampled in all the chaos, without so much as a backward glance. So I wouldn’t be too concerned about him babe, cause he sure as hell doesn’t give two farts in a martini about you,” I shot back.

_Geez Wade, harsh much?_

Well, I figured everyone’s gotta get the metaphorical Band-Aid ripped from their festering wound of denial at some point in their lives, and Harley needed hers gone ASAP. So I figured I might as well be the obliging pair of fingers to do it…and oh would my fingers be obliging in more ways than one! *wink*

“Liah!” Harley screeched, “My Puddin would never do somethin like that! He loves me!” 

Yet just as she shouted those words, I saw something flicker in the depths of those blue-raspberry eyes; something wounded, like the sad gaze of a thoroughly kicked puppy. Damn, that look made me feel like my guts were being twirled and twisted, like a fork-full of spaghetti.

I could see it blaring as loud and obvious as a _Live Nudes!_ sign on the Vegas strip. _Puddin_ had done this sort of thing before…that and far, far worse; something I already knew via the comics from earlier. 

I could see it written all over Harley’s face; she knew the clown didn’t give a tiny rat’s diseased ass about her. She knew that what I’d just gracelessly blurted out was the truth; she just wanted it to be different so badly that she lashed out whenever anyone tried to rain on her crazy-town parade…and I apparently was the big ole’ meany of a red and black storm cloud lurking overhead.

“You take it back! My Puddin didn’t push me! We just got…sepahrated in the crowd, that’s all. Say it!” Harley snarled, shoulders squared, as she took a purposeful step towards me.

She flexed the fingers of the hand that wore the stun knuckles as if her fist was restless and just dying to get reacquainted with my face. 

“Not gonna tell you a blatant lie, sweetness. I **saw** that green-haired anus leech push you and take off as if you cracking your head on the pavement was no different to him than someone cracking an egg to make an omelet. He didn’t give the tiniest of baby-turds in a porta potty if you ever opened those pretty blues again. **I** on the other hand, give a whole sewage treatment plant worth the butt-logs what happens to you!” I blurted.

_Wow…so yeah, this declaration of love just got weird…and a tad nauseating. Man, I really gotta watch where I stick in shit analogies. Sloppy, Wade. Just plain sloppy!_

Harley blinked at me and crinkled her cute, little nose in disgust.

“First of all, eww! Second of all, ya don’t even know me! You don’t know nothin about me and Mistah J. neithah! He loves me! He’s devoted ta me! He **needs** me! What you need is yer eyes checked cause pushin me ain’t what happened, now say it!” Harley’s eyes blazed with the sort of fury that usually signifies that someone is about to get kicked in the junk.

_Unfortunately that someone is probably going to be me._

However, I never did know how to leave well enough alone. I’m like that asshole kid you always see at least once per trip to the zoo. You know, the one that always manages to find a stick, feed it through the bars, and poke the hell out of the already pissed-off tiger with it? 

Yup, I’m that kid, but instead of a tiger, I’m poking a curvy goth-clown hottie with stun knuckles, knives in her boots, and a Glock down her vinyl corset. 

Hehehehe, I said _poking_.

Yeah, so Harley couldn’t kill me, but she could certainly make me wish I’d never gotten off the couch this morning. Probably not the wisest choice to keep pushing her, but quitting is for dickless losers, and as we’ve already established with my colorful Bunny Ranch anecdote, I’m anything but! *saucy wink* 

“No, I’m not gonna feed into your delusions that he’s Mr. Right with a bad dye-job! He doesn’t give a fuck about you, and you know it! That’s what’s really chompin your cheese here! He pushed you and never looked back, and he’ll do it again, and again, and **again**. As far as the clown goes, your name might as well be Kleenex, because you’re every bit as disposable!”

Harley’s only response was a bellowing cry as she charged me head-on.

_Oh boy Pooly, ya went and stepped in it now!_

Shut up, inner-me-thoughts voice! I kinda get I’m about to get my ass handed to me!

_Okay cool, that’s fine. Just thought it was worth stating. Also thought that it would be worth the mention that you went a bit too far. Especially with that Kleenex bit…ouch man! That was brutal!_

Yeah, yeah! I get that now, but it’s kinda-

“We got sepahrated in the crowd!!! **Say it**!!!” Harley shrieked and launched herself at me like an extremely pissed-off spider monkey leaping off a tree branch.

_Ooof!_

I landed on my back like a sack of potatoes thrown from the window of a moving vehicle. My spine was slammed against my Katana holsters (not a pleasant sensation, let me tell ya!) and my head cracked so hard against the concrete that I was genuinely shocked I didn’t see cartoon tweety-birds flying in a gleeful circle around my head.

_Oh well, could be worse. My head is throbbing like a mother-fucker, but at least I’ve got Harley straddling me now. See, silver-linings and all that!_

“Say it! Say that me and Mistah J. got sepahrated in the crowd! Say it!” my enraged clown-cutie screamed within an inch of my face.

I got a pleasant whiff of her sugary, bubble-gum scented breath.

_Yummy!_

Man, I wanted another taste of her like a man stranded in the desert desperately wants an ice-cold beer…I just needed to get her to stop being so damn ticked-off at me.

“Nope, not gonna say any such thing, cause you know it isn’t true,” I shot back.

_So yeah…probably not the best way to get on her good-side, Wade!_

I **know** that inner-me-thoughts voice! I just say things sometimes, get off my nutsack, will ya?!

_Bam!_

_There’s the taser knuckles again…ouchies…_

“Say it! Say we got sepahrated!” Harley snarled.

Even though she had a manic look in her eye that kinda said she wanted to use my guts as stocking garters, I couldn’t help but notice her lady-bits were pressed right against my not so flaccid man-bits.

“Not…gonna…happen…sweet-cheeks,” I panted, catching my breath from Harley’s little shock-powered love-tap.

“ **Say it!!!** ” she screamed, gripping the front of my suit and shaking me so hard my brain was rattling around in my skull like a dried pea in a tin can.

_Plink!_

_Plunk!_

Apparently getting shook like a red-headed stepchild helped expel the lingering slugs that were hanging around in my head-meats. Harley stopped shaking me for a second, to blink in momentary confusion at the discarded shells (she probably forgot they were still in there). I then I took full advantage of her being all distracted-like and turned the tables.

I flipped us, so she was the one flat on her back, before she could so much as yelp and pinned her arms above her head, so there couldn’t be any more shocky-shocks.

_Deadpool no likey being a human weather vane!_

“Say it!” she snarled again, just as vicious, despite her clearly losing the upper-hand.

“I’m not gonna say what you want to hear princess, sorry. I’m not gonna feed you a pack of lies, just so you can keep on pretending, Harley. I’m not him! I **will** , however, tell you that I would treat you a million times better…heck, that wouldn’t even be hard!” I shouted.

“I **will** tell you that ever since I saw your pictures in those comics, I can’t get you out of my head…even though that was only a few hours ago, but still, you get the gist of what I’m saying here, right? You had me at _‘Eat lead, ya pigs!’_ ”

“You’re one of the top reasons I decided to come on down to this shit-show, and you’re the only reason I’m staying. Oh and I tell ya when I saw you knocked down and you weren’t moving, it felt like that part in _Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom_ , where that angry voodoo priest guy rips the heart right out of that one guy’s chest. I swear, when I thought you were badly hurt, I couldn’t even breathe there for a second. The only thing I could think about was getting to you,” I told her sincerely.

_Look at me, getting all Lifetime romance and shit!_

Harley just looked at me all wide-eyed and stunned. Was stunned good? I wasn’t so sure. Well, she wasn’t yelling at me anymore, that was good…right?

_Thunk!_

Nope! Definitely **not** good! Ouuuuch!!!!

“Son of a coke-whore’s saggy teats!” I groaned and rolled to the side, my skull on fire.

The little minx head-butted me! 

“What the hell are ya talkin bout? You some kinda weirdo stalkah or somethin?” Harley hopped to her feet, her posture defensive.

“Yes to the weirdo part, no to the stalker bit,” I huffed, rubbing my throbbing forehead, as I slowly got up from the crud-coated pavement.

“Laiah, laiah, tight red pants on fiyah!” Harley sing-songed.

Before I could so much as utter a single syllable of protest, one of my bae’s boots landed a solid, gut-pounding kick to my middle.

_Ooof!_

Yeah, it was kinda pathetic. There I was, a totally badass ninja-like assassin and former black-ops, and I was too distracted by the fact that Harley just gave away that she’d been checking out my tight pants, to keep from getting my ass kicked by my future baby-mama.

_Oh well, at least she was looking! That’s what counts! Progress Wade, progress!_

“Now, drop that secret admirer crap and fess-up cupcake! Who you workin for? Who sent ya? The cat-bitch? Two-face? That asshole in the green tights that asks a lotta dumb questions? Who hired ya ta act all nicey-nice and then take me out?!” Harley growled, circling me like a sexy-ass shark closing in on her prey.

“First of all, if my objective were to take you out, why didn’t I just cap you when you were passed out on the sidewalk? Why go to the trouble of saving you? FYI baby-cakes, I got killin skills for days. So, if I wanted your cute ass dead, we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” I told her with an easy shrug.

“Second of all, what kind of number did Clowney Mc Cunt-mouth do on you that it’s easier for you to believe I’m here to kill you than it is to accept that I’m just a guy, standing in front of a girl, asking her to knock-boots with me for life?” I asked.

_So yeah, as you can see, I’m not above shamelessly ripping-off movie quotes. Whatever works, and hey, I put my own spin on it!_

Harley stopped her circling for a long, tension-packed second, her head tilting in a contemplative sorta way that said she was thinking what I said over.

“I told ya not ta talk like that about my Puddin,” she scowled, but there was decidedly a lot less heat behind the demand.

“Make me,” I challenged, a smirk pulling at my still exposed mouth.

“You think yer so clevah, dontcha? Stickin ta yer lovesick Romeo story, but I know what yer really up ta!” my clown-cutie declared, all imperious-like.

“And what’s that, love-lumps? Do tell,” I grinned, daring a step towards her.

_Thud!_

Nope! Shouldn’t have dared, I belatedly realized, when I was once again hunched over via another goth-chick boot kick to the gut. 

_Goddammit!_


	3. I Get Some Action

“So, what I figyah is…” Harley narrowed her eyes at me, “I’m not the target. Am I, cupcake? Yer just tryin ta buttah me up, so I’ll lead ya ta Mistah J., so you can ice em, right? Who put ya up ta it? Was it that snooty lard-ass Cobblepot? I thought somethin smelled fishy! Wait, was it Red? It was Red, wasn’t it?! She didn’t take it so well when I told her I preferred sausage ta taco. That plant lovin cunt just can’t take no for an answah, can she?” 

“So sorry to rip a new asshole in your little theory there, sweetheart, but I had my chance at Ass-clown Mc Queef Breath, while you were taking your curbside nap. I had a clear shot at him right after he pushed you. It also wouldn’t have been hard for me to tail him after he took off. I could have gotten to him before ole Pointy Ears if I’d really wanted to. I didn’t though. I just wanted to get to you,” I wheezed, trying to regain my breath.

Damn, could my girl kick with those luscious getaway sticks of hers!

“Likely story,” Harley grumbled with a cute-as-hell pout.

Was it just me, or did she sound less convinced of my lair status by the second?

_Ding, ding, ding! Points for Deadpool!_

“So…tell me about this _Red_. She ever convince you to do anything that would suggest you might be into eating out at the ole _taco truck_?” I asked, suddenly riveted on the ever so deliciously depraved images that idea painted in my head.

Oh boy, did I have a boat-load of new material for my spank-bank!

“That ain’t none of yer business, Mistah Nosey!” Harley shouted, taking a swing at me with her stun-knuckles, which I easily dodged this time.

“Hot damn!! I think that’s definitely a yes! Harley Quinn, you naughty, naughty girl!” I tsked.

“Shut yer pie hole!” she growled, taking another swing, and I swore I could see the rosy pink of a blush, right through her face paint.

This time I caught her by the wrist and pulled her to me, her back pressed to my chest, the curve of her bootylicious derriere pressed right against my _clam hammer_.

“You know what happens to naughty girls, right? They get spanked,” I murmured low, my lips brushing the shell of her ear.

_Hold up! Did I just feel her shiver? Like the good kind of shiver?!_

Eager to test my theory that I was currently flipping her switch to the _on_ position, I gave her juicy hind-quarters an experimental grind; letting her feel the full, rigid length of my throbbing hard-on, right against her ass.

_Yup, there’s that shiver again!_

This time the quaking of Harley’s delicious, curvy body was followed by the faintest of breathy moans. Oh, snap! She was into it!

 _It’s on now!_

“That’s it, purr for me, kitten,” I murmured, this time letting my lips linger on her ear; daring a slow lick to the outer shell. 

“Mmmm,” Harley gasped, her ass pressing back against my aching stiffy, as she ground her round apple-bottom against my rock-hard cock.

_Oh fuck-to-the-yes!_

The delicious rub of friction caused a flurry of pleasure to spiral up my shaft, and I let out a strangled whimper as the mind-melting sensation shot straight to my balls. Shit, if it felt that damn good just doing the ole bump and grind with her, then I figured I’d probably lose my fucking mind once I got nuts-deep in her sweet, sweet honey-pot. 

“You like that, sweetheart? You want more?” I whispered, my gloveless hand running a painfully slow trail up her thigh, my fingers dipping just under the hem of her skirt and ghosting a teasing caress against her soft as hell bare skin.

“Mmm…I…I…um…” Harley whimpered, her breath coming in a thin rasp, as she ground back against my rod again.

_Holey Moses, does that feel good!_

Since my bae was a little tongue-tied at the moment, I decided to test my boundaries just a wee bit. I let my fingers creep a tad higher up her thigh until my questing digits were brushing against the frills of her sexy-as-sin panties.

“How bout I make you feel like you’re dancing on the moon, surrounded by a galaxy of fireworks?” I groaned in her ear, “Cause if you keep rubbing that tight little caboose on my cock, you’re gonna send me into orbit.”

I heard her breath hitch. Her hips stilled, like she was pausing to think about it, then…

_Bam!_

Pain was shooting up my leg, like a streaming firecracker of ouchiness, because the little vixen had stomped the ever-loving shit out of my left foot. My clown-cutie whirled away from me, a snarl on her painted face. 

Does it make me a complete sap to admit that even though my foot was throbbing like a mother-fucker, I instantly missed the feel of her against me?

“Look, I’m gonna be frank,” Harley told me.

“Okay cool, I guess I could be into that. Can I still be Deadpool?” I asked.

“Shut yer yap and listen! I don’t trust ya as far as I can throw ya! You gotta have an angle. Everyone does. What’s yers? What does cozyin up ta me get ya? What’s in it for you? Even Mistah J. has an angle. He likes controllin me. He likes knowin that every time he kicks me down, I’ll just get right back up. That kinda devotion really gets his rocks off,” Harley confessed as she went back to warily circling me once more.

“I honestly don’t care for that arrangement much, but I always figyahed that if that was the price of makin him happy, then I’d just keep on keepin on, ya know? But offerin me somethin more than that…teasin me with the idea that things could be different with you, lyin and sayin ya want me…well that’s just cruel!” Harley glared at me, “I’m gonna level with ya, Mistah Tight-Pants. Nobody wants me. Not really. They all want somethin from me. Even Red. She just wants ta tick-off Mistah J. real good. So I’m gonna ask ya again, what’s in it for you?”

“Really? Are you going to seriously ask me that? Girl, have you even looked in a mirror lately? Cause if beauty is pain, baby you must be hurtin! Besides, I kinda get the impression that my crazy would complement your crazy. So I figured, why not make a go of it and see what it would be like; you and me, fuckin shit up, humping like bunnies, and generally being happier than pigs in shit. What do you think? Sound like something you’d be down for?” I asked sincerely.

“You for real?” Harley blinked at me.

“Would I keep just standing here letting you beat the shit out of me if I wasn’t? From what I’ve gathered, you’ve been through a lot. Don’t you think you’ve earned a bit of happiness by now?” I asked, taking a hesitant step towards her.

“So what? Yer gonna just sweep me off my feet like some kinda freakish, indestructible prince charmin?” Harley scoffed.

“Why? You gotta problem with that?” I grinned, grabbed her by the wrist and twirled her right back against me a’ la Fred Astaire.

Before she could so much as twitch a cute little muscle, I made a grab for her stun-knuckles, slipped the hated contraption from her hand, and tossed it as far as I possibly could, down the alley.

_Adios, you hurty mother-fucker!_

With an outraged gasp from Harley, I felt the stir of her leg against mine and knew another foot stomp was coming. Before she could see it through, I yanked her backwards, seating myself on a couple of stacked crates pushed along one side of the alley and sprawled Harley across my lap; belly facing downward and her toned tush right up in the air. 

“What did I tell you about naughty girls, hmm?” I drawled pulling up her skirt so it was rucked-up around her hips, her cute black panties on full, tantalizing display.

I paused for a moment, taking my cues from Harley. She wasn’t resisting; in fact, her breath was coming in a ragged pant that suggested excitement. 

_Interesting…very interesting…_

“You’ve been a bad, bad girl, Ms. Quinn…and bad girls get punished,” I murmured, hooking a finger inside the waistband of her panties and pulling them down the curve of her round, rosy cheeks.

I heard her let out a breathless gasp, her luscious booty all but bouncing in anticipation.

_Well, okay then!_

Apparently, my girl was a fan of foreplay that edged more to the side of kink.

 _I knew it! Yup, Pooly old boy, you hit the jackpot!_.

I ran a slow, appreciative hand over Harley’s perfect, heart-shaped rum-shaker. Holy frijoles, did she have the cutest ass ever! Her skin was silky-smooth, and just the feel of my gloveless hand gliding over its perfection had my _one-eyed solider_ all but drooling in his tight-pants prison.

“You ready to take your punishment like a good girl?” I ventured, making sure she was into what was about to go down; otherwise, things were gonna get **awkward**.

Nobody likes an awkward spanking. Trust me on that one…and no, don’t ask. All I can tell you is that it involved some magic-mushrooms and an ill-advised trip to Amsterdam…and that’s **all** I’m sayin!

“…Yeah…” Harley whimpered, all breathy and eager, “I’ll take it like a good girl!”

_Holy purring sex-kitten, Batman!_

Apparently, my clown-princess wasn’t all snarls and sucker-punches after all. That is if one knew just how to rev Harley’s motor.

Lucky me, I’d stumbled onto the secret of jump-starting her engine. *wink*

_Ding, ding, ding! Bonus points for Deadpool!_

I gave each of Harley’s round, juicy globes a good squeeze; greedily kneading the soft, plump flesh, prompted on by her throaty little moans of encouragement. Goddamn, I can’t even tell you what the sight of her all bare-assed and needy, laid over my lap like some kinda kink-loving angel, did to me!

My cock felt like it was about to punch a hole straight through my pants and I knew right then and there that I would happily spend the rest of my life groping that ass…among other things. *double wink*

_Smack!_

I let my hand crack down on her left cheek, hard enough to pleasantly sting, but not enough to really hurt. I’d never treat her the way that green-haired ass-goblin had. I’d chew my own damn hand off before I ever hurt her. Hell, there had been more than a few tight spots I’d gotten my happy ass jammed into, where I’d had to do just that, so it wouldn’t be anything I wasn’t already use to.

_Smack!_

I brought my hand down on her right cheek, not wanting it to feel left out.

_Gotta keep things even!_

“Mmm! Yeah! More! I’ve been **real** bad!” Harley whimpered, and I had to take a few calming breaths to keep the ole _lap rocket_ from shooting off too soon.

Both her luscious cheeks were pinking-up, and suck me sideways if it wasn’t one of the sexiest goddamn things I’d ever seen!

_Smack!_

I brought my hand back down on her left glute, a little harder than before, but not enough to leave a mark.

“Oh!” Harley gasped.

I glanced down to see my girl bracing an arm against the edge of the crate-top; propping up the upper half of her body and craning her neck so that she could look up at me from over her shoulder. Her eyes glittered with evident lust, her plump lower lip caught between her cute little pearly-white teeth. 

Oh my stars and garters, the things I wanted to do to her! Some of them questionable in legality in some states…

“You like that, baby?” I asked, my breath coming a bit on the labored side, “You like being spanked like the bad, bad girl you are?”

“Yeah…” Harley whimpered and began to urgently grind her hips against my leg as if wordlessly begging me for more.

“What a greedy, naughty girl you are,” I murmured thickly, feeling just a wee bit awe-struck.

I mean, she couldn’t be any more perfect for me if Stan Lee himself had tailor-made her for yours truly. It fucking boggled my mind that we were from two different worlds (literally) because we so **obviously** belonged together. 

_Just a moment ago she was kicking my ass like she straight-up owned me, now I’m spanking her cute little rear like she’s a back-alley working gal, and she is **loving** it! Beep, beep, beep! Perfect woman alert!_

_Smack-smack-smackity-smack-smack!_

I gleefully spanked Harley’s pink globes until they were red and glowing and her breath came in a ragged, needy pant. My own was pretty damn thin and reedy, as I tore off my remaining glove with my teeth; eager to fully explore her yummy-licious, pin-up centerfold body without barriers.

Reverently, like a devout worshiper at the church of _Our lady of the Boner-Inducing Hiney_ , I ran my hands up and down the curve of Harley’s rosy derriere. The creamy, soft skin was pleasantly warm from all the attention, and I found myself involuntarily letting out a tortured groan from deep within my throat.

I felt like a kid on Christmas morning, just dying to play with my new toy. It wasn’t long before my left hand was dipping between Harley’s delectable hams and inside the tiny black panties that were still all bunched-up, right under the luscious swell of her ass. Of course, my greedy fingers made a beeline straight for the sweet lady-peach nestled between her legs. 

_Sweet mother of fuck!_

My fingers brushed against Harley’s bare, smooth-as-sin pussy lips and I swear to Buddha, it took every ounce of my inner Zen guru, not to explode in my pants like a raging volcano. She was all bare and velvety soft… _dios mio!_

To tell you the truth, I’d never before had much of a preference when it came to the hair on a lady-garden. Bushy, shaved, trimmed, landing-strip…it was all good! I mean, why worry about the landscaping when you get to _play in the yard,_ ya know?

However, reveling in the oh-so-smooth glide of my fingertips on Harley’s hairless snatch, I was about a second away from building an altar of divine worship to the gloriousness that is the shaved pussy…well, that and other things. *wink* 

Spurred-on by the urgent buck of Harley’s hips and her ball-tingling, needy little mewls, I let my fingers venture between the seam of her bare lips and into her slick, pink folds. Holy flaming cheese monkeys, she was she dripping wet!

“Dirty girl. Your pussy is like a Slip N Slide just after me smacking your ass a few times. Hmmm…makes me wonder how much wetter you’ll get if I…” I trailed off, letting the scar-roughened tip of my pointer finger brush a slow, teasing circle around the small, hard bead of her clit.

My clown-cutie’s entire body jerked as if she’d just tried to straddle a live-wire. Man, was she uber-responsive! 

_Mmm…Daddy like!_

“Oh gawd!” Harley rasped.

“Aw, I’m flattered, but again, the names Deadpool. Although, some call me DP…or Poolman. You can call me Wade if you want. That’s my actual name, by the way. Probably something I should have mentioned earlier. Anyhoo, Wade Wilson, nice to meet you,” I grinned down at her as I began to circle her clit a bit faster.

“Aaaah! Nice…ta…meetcha…” Harley gasped between clenched teeth; her eyes scrunched-up tight; the _clitoral massage_ I was giving her overwhelming her senses.

“Oh no ya don’t, sweetheart. You’re gonna open those pretty-blues and focus them back on me. I want you looking right at me when you cum,” I growled.

I withdrew my finger from fondling her tiny pink pearl, just long enough to give her soaked pussy a small, teasing slap. I immediately followed that with refocusing my attention back on her clit, this time baring down with the pad of my thumb, rubbing in quick, firm circles. 

Harley let out a sound somewhere between a squeak and a moan, her eyes flying wide open and sparking with raw, unadulterated lust. My already shit-eating-grin pulled all the wider. 

Of course she liked that. My clown-princess was a filthy little minx, and I knew right then and there that I was one fucking lucky bastard.

“Hmm, that good, huh? You want more?” I asked, the mighty _meat scepter_ between my legs all but begging to be _polished_ , as it throbbed a desperate pulse against the seam of my pants.

Harley’s, only response was an eager, wordless nod; her pigtails bobbing adorably and her eyes as wide as dinner plates. I chuckled before withdrawing my thumb and gave her cute little pussy another slap. She squeaked again…and fuck me with a rutabaga if that wasn’t one of the hottest damn sounds in existence.

Once again, I followed the slap with a frenzied rub of my thumb and continued on in a pattern.

_Slap. Rub. Slap. Rub. Slap. Rub._

I felt Harley’s yummy-licious body begin to tremble against my lap and I knew that signified a green light on the street to O-town. Just needed to give her a little boost…

_Don’t mind if I do!_

With that, I slid my middle and ring fingers into the warm, wet haven of Harley’s tight little snatch…and by tight, oh boy, do I mean **tight**! Right away her slick walls clamped down on my digits, like a well-lubed vice. 

The ole _Bone Ranger_ hadn’t even gone for a ride yet, and already my eyes were all but rolling in the back of my head at just the mere idea of being balls-deep in one Ms. Harleen Quinzel…or as far as I was concerned, the future Mrs. Pool.

“Holy guac-ah-mole! Aaaah!” Harley yelped breathlessly when I crooked my pointer finger and implemented it to the task of rubbing her clit, as I pumped the other two in and out of her sticky, wet heat. 

Goddamn, this woman could scream about chip dip, and it was still the fucking sexiest thing ever to be uttered by the female gender! Well, technically, I think that title would officially belong to _“There are no wrong holes”_ or _“No, I don’t want the remote, ever”_ or maybe even _“Wherever you want to set the thermostat is fine by me, I see no need to change it.”_

Still, though, Harley screaming about everyone’s favorite party snack was right up there on the top five, at least. I mean, anything Harley wanted to scream was erotic gold in my book!

“Please, cupcake… _Wade!_ Make me cum!”

Yup, speaking of erotic gold, her using my name in the same sentence as the word _cum_ was enough to have my breath stuttering in my lungs and my cock leaking inside my pants.

_Well, what the lady wants, the lady gets!_

With that, I brought my right hand down with a firm _smack_ , right on the scrumptious swell of her ass, while my left continued to finger-fuck her dripping pussy for all I was worth. 

The wet squelch of my fingers sliding in and out of her, accompanied by the rhythmic smacks of her ass, which I timed to the thrust of my fingers. Topped off with the desperate, needy moans my girl was making (which seemed to be getting louder by the second) it was all like an X-rated symphony to my deviant little ears. Fuck! It was the stuff late-night porn-induced wet dreams were made of!

“Gonna…cum…” Harley panted, as I felt her walls clamp down impossibly tighter on my pumping digits.

 _Oh, it’s go time!_

I immediately stopped spanking and let my right-hand slide right between her reddened ass-cheeks, straight to her puckered rosebud. I then enthusiastically rubbed her tight hole with the tip of my middle finger, adding just the right amount of pressure to the puckered pink ring; not penetrating though. I didn’t know my bae’s stance on backdoor play quite yet and everyone knows it’s rude to come in through the back door without _knocking_ first. 

Instead, I gave her just enough pressure there to send her careening over the edge, with the dueling sensations of my fingers fucking her pussy; the pointer finger of my left hand dragging hard and slow over her little clit. 

“I’m…I’m…I’m cumin…aaaaahhhh!!!!!” Harley screamed, her hips bucking against my leg with wild abandon, her pussy clenching fiercely around my fingers, and (just like I’d told her), she looked right in my eyes as her orgasm sent her rocketing into oblivion.

“Holy mother-fucking-fuck-balls,” I murmured reverently, maintaining the soul-searing eye contact as I let her ride it out, “I don’t think there are even any words for how hot you look right now.” 

It was the damn truth too. At the risk of sounding sappy as hell, she was the most beautiful, sexiest creature I’d ever seen; sweat beading on her forehead, stray wispy strands of blond hair plastered to her flushed skin, a glowing blush showing right through the thin layer of her now splotchy, face paint. Fuck, I needed to be inside her, **badly**.

Harley offered me an almost shy look from under her lashes, as she came floating back down to earth, a satisfied grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. She let out a small gasp, her body jerking as my crooked finger made one last lazy stroke against her oversensitive clit.

“Geez-Louise, yer good at that,” my clown-cutie panted.

I grinned and eased my honey-coated fingers from her still pulsing cunt.

“Baby, you ain’t seen nothin yet,” I replied, feeling like the king of the fucking mountain; lifting her hips and gently coaxing her up and off my lap.

Harley gave me a questioning lift of her brow as she came to stand on wobbling legs. I stood too, immediately wrapping one arm around her waist, pressing her close, and letting her feel just what kind of state finger-fucking her had put _Russel the One-Eyed Muscle_ in. 

Harley reached up, her arms instantly circling my neck, as she pulled me even closer; as if there being a complete and total lack of space between us just felt right to her too. 

I made sure her attention was fixed entirely on me before I slid the hand that had just driven her to a screaming orgasm up between us. With those gorgeous blue-raspberry eyes of hers practically glued to me, I brought my fingers, still covered in her glistening juices, to my mouth.

The salty, sweet tang of her cunt-juice hit my tongue, and I couldn’t help but moan aloud at the taste of her. Is it possible to get instantly crazy-ass addicted to the flavor of something? If so, then I was pretty sure I was now a bonafide junkie, hopelessly hooked on the sweet taste of goth-clown pussy. 

Harley let out a surprised little gasp as she watched me lick my fingers clean, like me enjoying the taste of her was the last thing she expected. Apparently, the green-haired douche nozzle hadn’t fully appreciated her in more ways than one. Oh well, his insurmountable loss, my extremely tasty gain.

“Yeah…I’m going to need a lot more of that, sweetheart. This time, straight from the source,” I told her, grabbing her up by the hips, as she let out a startled squeak. 

I sat Harley on the stacked crates I’d just vacated, immediately kneeling between her knees and pushing up her skirt. I attempted to spread her creamy thighs nice and wide for me, but the goddamn panties I’d bunched beneath her ass were getting in my way.

“Whelp, these are just gonna have to go, now aren’t they?” I told her breezily, before hooking my thumb through a ruffled leg-hole and dipping the rest of my fingers into the waistband.

Making a fist and clutching the fabric of Harley’s panties nice and tight, I gave the black material a good, hard yank. The loud, surprisingly satisfying, sound of ripping fabric echoed through the alley. Yeah, I guess I could have just slide them down her legs, but where’s the fun in that?

“Nope, you won’t be needing these anymore. That’s for sure,” I announced happily, tossing the ruined panties over my shoulder.

Harley, only gave me a wide-eyed nod as I proceeded to spread her curvy stems; hooking one over each of my shoulders. Hunching down, I made myself eye-level with her cute, pink taco. Just where I wanted to be. Well, **almost**.

Harley’s bare pussy lips glistened with her wet juices, making my mouth water.

_Oh yeah, I need to get me a taste of that…_

“Yer gonna kill me, cupcake,” Harley murmured breathlessly, as I made a V (for victory), with my middle and pointer fingers, spreading her wet folds.

“Yeah, but what a way to go. Am I right?” I teased, right before I gave the length of her creamy slit a, long lingering lick.

“Holy-motha-ah-gawd!” Harley shouted, her entire body bucking, as I centered my attention on the bead of her clit, latching my greedy mouth around it and sucking voraciously.

“Nope, not her either, princess. It’s still Deadpool…or Wade, whichever one you think sounds best being screamed at high decibels,” I released her slick nub just long enough to inform her, before re-latching.

My cock throbbed relentlessly at the taste of her on my tongue, her cute little moans echoing in my ears; crackling through my veins and shooting straight down to my tingling balls. 

I knew then that I was gonna have to take the edge off and take matters into my own hand, so to speak. Otherwise, I was gonna last about as long as an acne-riddled teen with his first girl, in the backseat of his mom’s car, once I finally got inside Harley’s sweet, sweet lady-cave.

My clown-cutie was too scorching hot to just dive into without firing a warning shot with the ole pants-pistol first. Call me corny, but I wanted her to remember our first time together as more than me stabbing her with my _spam javelin_ , pumping twice, grunting, and blowing my load before she could so much as blink. Not exactly the stuff romantic fantasies are made of.

Sure, we were about to have a spontaneous fuck in an alley, but I wanted it to be a **meaningful** , spontaneous fuck in an alley, goddammit! 

Alternating between flicking Harley’s clit with the tip of my tongue and sucking on it with hard, lingering pulls, I reached down and hooked my fingers into the waistband of my pants, hidden behind my utility belt.

_Well, that’s a little convenient, don’t you think? I always thought it was a one piece bodysuit. Maybe you’re purposely misrepresenting the gear, for the sake of your garbage erotica, Wade._

Can it, inner-me-thoughts voice! It’s always been two pieces! How else did I take a piss on the wheels of Tony Stark’s jet all those times? The dude’s got a hell of a security system. I had to whip out the ole _bread splitter_ and get that shit done fast. I couldn’t have pulled it off if I had to fully disrobe, now could I? And I’m not misrepresenting jack-squat, this is exactly how it went down!

_Sure it is…okay, whatever. Tell it however the fuck you want._

Thank you! I will! Anyways, where was I? Oh yeah… 

Reaching into my pants, I pulled out my one-eyed monster. I gripped it at the throbbing, purple tip and spread the pre-cum beaded at the slit, down the shaft with a slow, firm stroke.

I let out a low, muffled groan against the slick folds of Harley’s pussy; my sounds of self-satisfaction all but drowned out by her more than enthusiastic shouts and moans of approval of the workout my tongue was giving her clit.

“Holy mac-ah-roni! Ahhh…oh gosh…keep goin…yeah…just like that…” Harley mewled, her thighs quivering, the heels of her boots digging into my back.

“That’s right, baby, scream for me,” I mumbled against her dripping slit, pumping my cock in time to the licks and sucks I gleefully administered to her swollen pleasure-bead.

 _Oh god, just hearing her moan and tasting her like this is gonna make me blow…_

With that thought, I felt my sac draw-up tight, and the tale-tell tingle of the big-O begin to build at the base of my dick.

_Fuck!_

“My, uh, rocket’s about to…um…shoot off. Come on sweetness, cum with me,” I told Harley, meeting her pleasure-glazed eyes with my own desperate stare. 

“Yes…” my horny little vixen nodded, her voice a frantic rasp, her hips bucking wildly; grinding her sweet pussy desperately against my eager tongue.

My gripping fist was a frenzied blur on my cock, my speed just about rivaling The Flash. My whole body strained with the ascending climb to the _mountain top_ , as I continued to eat Harley’s snatch like I was a man starving.

_Double fuck!_

Waves of pleasure began to spiral up my rod, my heart thumping like a jack-hammer against my ribs, toes curling in my boots. Just as the orgasm hit me (like a runaway mac truck going the wrong way on a high-speed freeway), I plunged two fingers into Harley’s hot little cunt. 

I groaned my release into her juicy wetness; pumping her tight hole while I greedily sucked at her clit, as if my very life depended on her coming all over my face. I felt the hot spurt of my jizz splash over my clenched fingers, as I continued to frantically work my cock, attempting to wring every last drop of man-gravy from my pulsing _disco stick_.

“Fuckin-mother-of-fuck-on-fucking-fire!” I gasped against Harley’s slick clit, my body seizing and my brain swirling in a sex-hazed stupor.

I kept right on eating her, as I rode out the crashing waves of nut-busting, spine-tingling sensation. As if my clown-cutie took my climax as some sort of cue, I felt the tight spasming of her walls squeeze the ever-living-fuck out of my fingers. With that, Harley’s trembling thighs clamped down on either side of my masked head, like a sexy-ass bear trap. 

One of her hands flew to the base of my skull, pulling me impossibly closer, as she mindlessly ground her wet slit hard against my sucking mouth.

“Oh…ah gawd…Wade…gonna cum again…Ahhh! **Holy-freakin-Christmas!** ” Harley gasped, her back arching, muscles visibly straining.

Half a beat later, her body gave a lurch and Harley threw back her head, screaming her orgasm to the surrounding rooftops.

* * *

A few moments later, after we’d fallen back down to earth, boneless and out of breath; I looked up at my girl, all flushed and sexy as ever-lovin-sin-on-a-stick. A smug-as-all-fuck grin stretched my mouth wide; still crouched between her legs, my head pillowed on her thigh.

_Man, I look forward to getting use to this…_

“Mmm…that was…I mean, wowzah, that was really somethin,” Harley sighed, and my chest-beating inner Tarzan let out a mighty jungle bellow at the dreamy, satisfied quality to her voice.

“Yer, just so… _attentive_. Christ on a crackah, I haven’t enjoyed myself like that since…well, since before Mistah J. made me the way I am. He called it freein me…and I use ta think that’s just what he’d done. I tell ya though, cupcake, bein with him has been feelin more and more like a prison with each passin year. I mean, for one thing, my _love button_ coulda dried-up and fallen off ages ago, and he woulda nevah noticed, if ya get my drift,” Harley sighed again, but this time it was tinged with a sad sort of regret that twisted-up my insides; like a troop full of boy scouts had decided to practice their fancy knot tying on my guts or something.

“Well. That’s why you’re not going back to that shit-weasel. Stick with me baby, and I swear that cute little _love-button_ will see more action than an entire marathon of Vin Diesel flicks,” I told her, giving her inner thigh a lingering caress.

Harley giggled and affectionately patted the back of my masked head.

“I don’t understand half the things ya say, and as infuriatin and confusin as ya are, I think ya’ve already grown on me…like a fungus,” Harley smiled down at me, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

Her other hand joined the one already lingering on my mask-covered dome, then they both abruptly moved downward, groping until the questing fingers came to rest on the seam where my mask met my suit. Before I could so much as blink, Harley’s fingertips were prying under the fabric. Her intention clear.

My whole body froze as if that dipshit with the ice gun (the one with the popsicle wife) had suddenly open-fired on yours truly. My heart started spazzing out behind the barrier of my chest, its beat suddenly a weird, stuttering _ka-ka-ka-thump_. 

Typically, I didn’t give a far-flying fuck what anyone thought of my ugly mug. Yeah, so my face looks like an amputated, deep-fried testicle with eyes. So what? Happened a long time ago and as the saying so tritely goes, _“there’s no use in crying over spilt milk”_ and all that bullshit. 

Also, in case you haven’t gotten the none-too-subtle hints I’ve been dropping, most of my encounters of the naked, horizontal variety (since my little _incident_ ) have been with ladies who have been handsomely paid not to mind things like full-body scarification and the fact that the guy taking them to pound-town looks like the Crypt Keeper’s better preserved cousin.

With enough greenbacks in the mix, things like looks tend to become a non-issue. However, Harley wasn’t some meaningless, paid fuck. She made me want the type of stuff you see in rom-coms; like jumping out of planes together…drag-racing in Tokyo…fighting murderous aliens who can only get you in the dark…

Oops! Didn’t I say that stuff happens in rom-coms? I guess I just have Vin Diesel on the brain. What is it about that smoldering, gravelly-voiced bastard and his cinematic ass-kicking skills that just seems like he should be synonymous with romance?

Anyway, to cut a long-winded rant to the meandering point, I wanted Harley to stick around…and that would be kind of a tall order if the sight of my face made her want to vomit in her mouth. Ya dig?

So saying that my bae trying to unmask me made me sweat harder than two rats fucking in a wool sock, is putting it rather mildly.

“Relax, cupcake,” Harley laughed, noticing how tense I’d suddenly become, “It’s not like I haven’t already seen enough with yer bare hands and yer exposed mouth, ta get the impression that yer not exactly male model material. I live in a city with a croc-ah-dile man and a big monstah that’s made outta clay. I think I can handle whatevah ya got goin on undah there.”

With that, my clown-cutie grappled a better hold on each side of my mask and yanked it clean off my bald, scar-puckered head. I braced myself, my whole body clenching like I was about to be fucked up the ass by a particularly randy cactus.

I stared straight into those blue-raspberry eyes and waited for a shriek, a shudder, or at least a polite nod followed by a hastily crafted, bullshit excuse about having an emergency nail appointment. None of that came though. 

Instead, Harley only smiled; like a real smile, none of that fake, infomercial pasted-on-grin crap that people always use when something is unpleasant as all fuck, but they don’t want to just say so.

Nope, Harley genuinely smiled at me, dropped my mask to the ground, and cupped my haunting nightmare of a face in her cute, little hands.

“You were worried about me seein this? Seriously? This ain’t no big deal. Sides, I always did think scars were sexy on a man. They give a face charactah, and bay-bee, ya got charactah in spades,” she grinned, leaned over, and pressed an adoring kiss to the top of my scarred, hairless head.

_Can’t breathe…too…many…feels…_

You know that part in the _Grinch that Stole Christmas_? Ya know, the part where the narrator says _"The Grinch's small heart grew three sizes that day."_

Well, in that moment I totally knew how that green, Grinchy bastard felt.

_Fuck, I need this woman. I need her right this goddamn second!_

“At the risk of sounding completely cliché and barf-inducing…where the fuck have you been all my life?” I choked out, my throat suddenly feeling annoyingly tight.

Harley parted her red painted lips, but I didn’t give her the chance to answer, cause I already knew. She’d been in this shit-show of a universe, just waiting for me to come find her.

_Well, ready or not Miss Quinn, here I come…hopefully in the literal sense._


	4. I Get the Girl

I shot to my feet; the waistband of my pants still askew, my dong flopping in the breeze. Well, maybe _flopping_ isn’t the right word…that would insinuate that I was flaccid, and just then, I was anything but. Hey, bullet holes aren’t the only thing I recover quickly from. *wink*

I pounced on Harley like a starving lion on a zebra…a really fucking sexy zebra…with a boner-inducing Brooklyn accent and a pussy that tasted kinda like salted caramel. Well fuck, that zebra analogy just got weird, didn’t it? 

I swear I’m not into freaky animal shit…no matter what my search history might lead you to believe. I was looking up that website for a friend…an overly curious, extremely regretful, _friend!_

Anyhoo…

I crushed my mouth to Harley’s, pushing my eager tongue past the silky-soft seam of her lips. She let out a breathy little moan, her arms banding around my neck, her tongue instantly picking up the swirling rhythm mine was impatiently coaxing hers into.

I knew Harley could taste the sweet tang of herself coating my tongue. She didn’t seem to mind. Hell, it seemed like she was even getting off on it, with how she clung to me and practically tried to suck my tongue right out of my head.

 _Holy mother of raging hard-ons, Batman!_

I might have just jerked myself to satisfaction, but with the way Harley was kissing me, I was more than ready to be buried to the hilt in my dream girl. With that, I gripped my clown-princess by her curvy, killer hips and hoisted her right off her stacked-crate throne.

Harley’s legs immediately wrapped around my waist, gripping me tightly, like a sexy-ass boa constrictor. My greedy hands grabbed each one of her bootylicious booty-cheeks, both holding her up and groping at the same time. What can I say? I like to multitask.

Harley’s lips never left mine, her hot little tongue eagerly licking into my mouth, retreating only so she could nibble and suck at my lower lip.

“Mmm…how am I already addicted to kissin ya? This is bananahs! We only just met,” she murmured against my mouth, her teeth playfully nipping at my lips.

“Oh, I’ve got a banana for you, missy. It’s just south of my belt and…it’s organic,” I grinned against her mouth.

Harley giggled and her creamy, porno-mag worthy, thighs gripped me even tighter.

“I think I can feel that _bananah_ pokin me right now,” she purred, her lips sliding over mine once again.

My clown-cutie wiggled her hips just right so that her mound lightly ground against my alleged _trouser fruit_. 

I suddenly became all too aware that the only thing separating my throbbing rod from her sweet, sweet lady-peach was the thin barrier of her skirt, which had annoyingly flopped back into place when I’d scooped her up.

I could feel the heat radiating from her hot little cunt, its come-hither warmth seeping right through her flimsy skirt and straight to the ole _pleasure pump_.

“I need ya, cupcake. Inside me…now,” Harley whimpered into my mouth, her wiggling hips grinding her mound against me once again.

_Fuckin’ A, Wade! What are you waiting for? The official welcome wagon?!_

“Well then, it’s a pleasure to be of service, ma’am,” I mumbled, sucking her plump lower lip between my teeth and giving it a playful nip, just as she’d done to me.

Damn was Harley right about kissing being addictive! Kissing her was a vice I was eagerly looking forward to indulging as often as humanly possible…among other things. 

With that, I blindly spun us around, one hand leaving my girl’s luscious hiney to grope for the crates sightlessly; my mouth still plastered to Harley’s, my tongue frantically swirling around hers, like I couldn’t possibly get enough.

With my heart jack-knifing against my ribs, my fumbling hand located the crates and I wasted exactly zero-point-zero seconds seating myself back on them. Harley’s centerfold-worthy legs were still wrapped tight around me like she was trying to land a gig as my new belt.

Fuck, I’d wear her every Goddamn day, but I knew she’d make a lousy belt…because my pants were so **not** staying up as long as she was around! I reasoned that my clown-cutie would be far better suited for the role of human cock-cozy. 

Yeah, a cock-cozy is a real thing, look it up! Yet instead of my junk being warmed by some crappy, overpriced, crocheted dong-sock (found in the dank bowels of Etsy), it would be all snug and toasty in Harley’s hot little...

“Need…yer…cock…” Harley panted, all but echoing my thoughts.

With that, my girl loosened her arms from around my neck; her hands gripping each of my shoulders as if bracing herself. Harley then unlocked her curvaceous stems from around my waist and (using her grip on my shoulders as leverage) squirmed her way to a straddling kneel. 

She hovered just over my lap, her knees resting on the crate-top, to either side of me. Getting the gist of what she was up to, I eagerly gripped her hips with both hands. 

_Hey, It’s always nice to help…_

Harley took her right hand from my shoulder and reached between us to hastily pull her skirt up and out of the way; holding the rumpled fabric in place against her flat, corset-clad stomach. 

Leaning in and looking down between us, I got an eyeball-sizzling view of Harley’s bare pink snatch hovering right over my throbbing _meat stick_. 

_Holy mother of fuck-balls, yes!_

I about lost my ever-loving mind when I felt my girl grind her hips downward, her pussy-lips (slick with her juice), ghosting over the hard ridge of my stiff dick.

“Oh god baby, you’re torturing me!” I groaned, my head lolling like a broken bobble-head, coming to rest against the alley wall at my back. 

My clutching hands gripped her hips so tight; I knew I might be in danger of leaving bruises. So I made the completely useless effort to relax my hold, only to involuntarily grip her like a fucking vice once again, when the dirty little minx ground her dripping pussy back down on my length; this time baring down with enough pressure for me to forget how to breathe, it felt so damn good.

“Sweet, flaming fuck-sicles! You’re gonna make me lose my goddamn mind before we even get to the good part, you filthy, filthy tease,” I gasped.

“Who’s teasin? Just gettin ya ready,” Harley grinned, bringing her left hand to her cute little red mouth and laving her palm with her quick pink tongue.

“Sweetheart, I’m so ready it’s not even fu-” I began, but all previous thoughts rocketed clear out of my skull when her saliva-moistened palm wrapped firmly around my rod.

“Whoa…so I see that the ladies ya were talkin bout before weren’t just being nice when they gave ya yer little nickname. Long Dong Silvah, seems more than accurate ta me,” Harley marveled, her head bent to peer curiously between us, as her gripping hand began to eagerly pump all twelve hard, scarred inches of me.

_Fuck me sideways with a frozen salmon! Holy shit does that feel fucking amazing!_

I let out a low, prolonged moan. Goddamn was she good with her hands! 

An evidently pleased grin stretched Harley’s mouth wide, as she worked me (her eyes still feasting on my _loaded gun_ ). The teensy-tiny portion of my brain that was still capable of some semblance of thought reasoned that ole Slizz-Lips was probably packing more of a peashooter than a rifle…if ya know what I mean. 

My girl seemed far too thrilled to be someone who was used to handling a _foot-long_. My innate ability to read people like they were billboards on the highway, told me that the only thing she’d been handling before me, was an itty-bitty cocktail weeny.

_Ha! Take that, ya green-haired assclown!_

My eyes about crossed when Harley gripped the tip of my cock, making a twisting motion with her hand that sent my lungs stuttering for air. I watched in slack-jawed reverence as she used her thumb to spread the beaded precum gathered at the slit, over the purple mushroom head, then worked my self-made lube down my straining shaft with her ever-so-accommodating hand.

“Fuck baby, I need you so damn bad!” I groaned, breathless, about half a second away from straight-up begging.

My girl’s only response was a lopsided grin as she stilled her stroking hand. Before I could let out the frustrated whine that instantly built at the back of my throat, she clenched my shaft in a purposeful grip, lowered her hips, and aligned the throbbing purple tip with her wet, juicy slit.

With that Harley leaned in close, the sugary scent of her bubble-gum breath filling my nostrils as she hovered her mouth over mine.

“Fuck me, Wade. Fuck me like ya mean everything ya said to me, bout wantin me. Show me ya mean it,” she whispered against my mouth before sucking my lower lip between her teeth.

_Oh it’s on like Donkey Kong!_

“Yes…ma’am!” I gasped, muffled against her hot little sucking mouth.

With my grasping fingers digging into Harley’s hips, I pulled her down; driving myself home in one hard thrust.

We groaned in unison, as I slammed her cunt down on my cock, right to the hilt. She fit me like a fucking glove, her tight, wet heat squeezing me all nice and snug. 

“Shit…sweetheart…you…feel…so…damn…good,” I rasped, momentarily frozen and needing a minute, my pulse pounding a deafening Roger Taylor-esque drum solo in my ears.

Yeah, I might have cum a few minutes before, but the feeling of my girl’s tight, perfect little pussy moulded around my pulsing dick alone, was nearly enough to send _old faithful_ erupting way before schedule. That was pretty much the last thing I wanted. 

This was our first time together, and call me a cheeseball romantic, but I wanted it to last at least a little longer than half a second.

_Just think the opposite of sexy thoughts, Wade! You got this! Just think…Al! Al In a bikini…Al in lingerie…Al doing the kind of things featured in that naughty Neko-girl anime you keep hidden in your sock drawer…Oh god!!! I’ve gone mentally blind!!!_

Thank the good, sweet lord Harley saved me from that particularly horrifying train of thought by lifting her hips, so that only the tip of my cock was still lodged inside of her, then slamming herself back down to the base. She then repeated the action, before I even had time to catch my breath or thoroughly process how fucking awesome it felt.

After that, it was pretty much impossible to think of anything but the sexy hottie straddling my lap and riding my dick like it was her job. 

“Ya like that, sugah?” Harley panted, pulling up on me and slamming back down once again.  
I bucked up into her sweet, sticky _promise land_ as hard as I could, desperately coaxing her hips into a reckless rhythm of complete and total sex-fueled abandon.

“Oh, you bet your cute little ass I fucking like it!” I growled, grabbing her right pigtail and hungrily pulling her mouth back down to mine. 

I practically fucked her sweet mouth with my tongue, mimicking what my cock was doing to her hot little pussy, as my hips eagerly thrust up to meet each of her downward motions. My hands slid from her hips to her juicy booty, gripping her cheeks through the back of her rumpled skirt and using those perfect, grade-A globes as leverage to slam her down on my rod.

_Feels…too…damn…amazing…_

“Oh gawd, cupcake! Yer stretchin me so good…” Harley whimpered into my mouth.

I could only answer with a low, guttural groan as I continued to desperately lick into her mouth, hips pumping like a fucking piston, and still, I just couldn’t seem to get enough of her. She tasted too damn good...felt too damn good. I felt like I was totally losing my goddamn mind…and that’s really saying something for me because let’s be honest here; I’ve always kinda been just a few fries short of a Happy Meal. 

I took one gripping hand from my girl’s gorgeous caboose, reached up into the top of her corset and lifted one of her luscious jugs out of its black vinyl casing; tearing my mouth from hers to properly admire the jiggly globe’s stupefying perfection. 

I’d seen more than a few chi-chis in my day, and maybe I was just being biased as hell, but I silently swore at the sight of my clown-cutie’s exposed, bouncing fun-bag, that if it wasn’t the prettiest tit to ever grace a C-cup, then I had no fucking clue what would be considered as such…because **damn!**

I quickly liberated her other _tannin cannon_ and just about bust a nut at the sight of those twin creamy flesh-orbs bouncing in time to the desperate pumping of our hips. Her rosy-pink nipples were just begging for my mouth, so I latched onto the left; sucking and tonguing the dusky bud like a titty-crazed maniac.

“Ahhh…geez Louise…that feels ah-mazin!” Harley cried, looping her arms back around my neck and clinging to me like a barnacle to the bottom of a boat.

“You think this is good? Then hows about I try this…” I growled around her tit, slipping my right hand between us and rubbing her clit.

Harley’s only response was a high-pitched wail, her hips lurching upward. 

_I’ll take that as a high approval rating then!_

With that, I used my free hand to grip back at her hip and slam her back down on my throbbing monster. I angled my hips as I thrust upward, hoping to hit just the right spot, while I kept rubbing at Harley’s clit like there was no tomorrow on the horizon.

“ **Waaaaaaaaade!!!** ” my clown-cutie threw her head back, her pussy clamping down on my cock like she was trying to milk the cum right out of me, and I knew another orgasm was crashing down on her like a shit-ton of bricks. 

I felt the warning tingle in my sac and knew it wouldn’t be long until I followed Harley over the edge; my breath a ragged pant around her wet, pebbled nipple, my hips lurching in a sporadic, broken rhythm as the need to explode bared down on me like a mother-fucker.

Easing my mouth from her saliva-drenched tit, I watched Harley ride out her high, in rapt fascination, knowing I was seconds away from blowing my load in her sweet, squeezing cunt. 

Holy fuck, was she beautiful; her red lips smeared and her blue eyes glazed-over with orgasmic fulfillment. 

That’s when I knew; I needed to seal the damn deal. There was no way in fuck-town that I was ever letting her go, and maybe it was **waaaay** too soon to be thinking the way I was…

Okay, yeah, it was **definitely** too soon, considering we’d met like a half an hour ago, but I didn’t give a rat’s tiny ass! When it’s right, it’s right, goddammit! I figured logic, caution, and reason could just go fuck themselves with a rusty spoon.

“Marry me!” the words, exploded out of my mouth just as my cum exploded in her tight, still-pulsing pussy.

I watched Harley’s eyes go wide as I came like a freight train; grinding as hard I could, up into her soaking snatch, milking the riptide of pleasure for all I was worth; a frozen, silent shout choking in my throat.

“…Oaky…” I heard her whisper, so quiet I thought I might have imagined it, then her hot little mouth was devouring mine again, coaxing my tongue in a greedy, whirling dance around hers, as my straining body twitched with spine-tingling aftershocks.

_Yup, you’re both fucking crazy! This is absolutely coo-coo-nuts, Wade!_

Shove it, inner-me-thoughts voice. No one cares.

* * *

_Whirrrrrrrrrr!_

Just as we were cooling down, Harley’s head resting limply in the crook of my neck, our naughty-bits still joined; I heard the distinctive buzz of approaching helicopters from overhead, accompanied by the nearby rumble of engines. Probably SWAT vans.

“Looks like they finally called in the heat, baby. Took em long enough. No wonder this city is so overrun with loonies. Your cops take forever to respond to anything. Probably waiting for the bat to solve all their problems, the dumb-fucks,” I chuckled, gently easing my girl off my cum-coated dick.

“We probably need to be off like a whore’s drawers on a sailor’s payday, cause I don’t know about you, but a long stay at _Hotel Penitentiary_ doesn’t sound very appealing to me. Yeah, they’ll be storming City Hall first, but it won’t be long until they start searching the surrounding area,” I told Harley, helping her stand on wobbly legs, before getting to my feet and tugging my pants back in place.

“You also might wanna tuck those delicious traffic-stoppers back in their home,” I grinned nodding towards her still exposed, and ever so mouthwatering, _barnyard boppers_.

She nodded and shot me a sheepish smile, tucking her girls back into her corset and straightening her skirt, as I gathered up my mask and gloves and hurriedly shoved them on.

“Here, you probably need these,” I told her, taking out a pack of travel tissues from my utility belt and tossing them to her as I jogged over to where I’d dropped my duffle bag and grabbed it up by the handles.

“Sucha gentlemen,” Harley giggled.

I watched her, mesmerized, as she pulled a few tissues from the pack, lifted her skirt, and hurriedly wiped the remains of my milky body-porridge from her thighs and pussy. 

Fuck me with a tiny tuba, why was that so damn hot?

I felt my _sausage spear_ begin to stir in my pants again.

_Down boy! We gotta go! There’ll be plenty of time to play cave-diver later!_

“Kay, ready!” Harley announced as she tossed the soiled tissues aside and tucked the pack in the top of her corset.

I scooped up Dorothy from where I’d dropped her earlier, during my head-shot demonstration and tucked her back in her holster. My eyes shot to where Harley’s stun-knuckles still lay further down the alley.

_And you can just stay right where you are, you shocky bastard. You know what you did!_

“Come on, sweetness. Time to blow this joint!” I called from over my shoulder.

I held out my gloved hand, and she immediately came skipping over, slipping her hand in mine like she’d done it a million times before. Harley’s grin was blinding as we hurried over to the chain-link fence at the back of the alley. She obviously had no regrets. Thank fuck for that.

_Goddamn, I love this woman._

“Up ya go, princess. The way we came in will be crawling with cops by now. So we gotta go out this way,” I nodded to the fence, sat my bag at my feet, and made a bridge of my gloved hands.

“This prolly ain’t the best time ta ask this…” Harley ventured, hesitant, as she stepped up to me, bent her leg, and put one of her booted feet in my joined hands, “But, did ya mean it? What ya asked me?”

“Does Batman overuse the _‘I’m such a brooding, complicated douche-hole’_ bit? Fuck yes, I mean it. Who wouldn’t wanna lock all of this yumminess down?” I asked my eyes practically eating her up.

“Well…Mistah J. for one. I’ve been with him for ages and he **nevah** asked. In fact, I tried askin him one time. That only lead ta a rathah heated rant about conventional stuff, like marriage, bein for normies and how he’d rathah put a pistol in his mouth then evah be like the mindless masses. I’ve known ya for about the timespan it takes me ta brush my teeth, and ya asked me, just like that. I can’t figyah if it’s some sorta sign or if it’s just plain crazy. Also, who’s more crackahs here? You for askin or me for sayin yes?” Harley pondered, her cute little nose scrunched-up in thought.

“To be honest, I think we’re both a few quarts shy of a full tank, but hey, that’s what makes it so great, right? I mean, it’ll always be exciting, and we’ll never get bored. So there’s that,” I told her, clenching my hands tight as she braced her full weight on them.

With that, Harley hopped up, grabbed the chain-link, and began to climb up the fence as effortlessly as a monkey going up a tree.

_Oh boy…what a view…_

Okay, so I might have lingered below her, just to get a glimpse of her perfect, bare ass peeking from beneath her skirt as she climbed. Man oh man, destroying her panties was quickly rising to the top of the _Best Ideas I Ever Had_ list. At that moment, I’d say it was right up there with the time I decided to use Al’s cane to change the channels on the T.V. because I lost the remote and was too lazy to get up.

“Ya gotta point. I know I’ve already had more fun with ya in just this short time then I’ve had in **ages** ,” Harley told me as she reached the top of the fence and swung a shapely leg over.

“See, there ya go. We have fun. There are marriages based on less,” I replied as I began my own awkward climb; one hand on the chain-link, one hand gripping the handles of my bag.

“True,” my clown-cutie nodded and swung her other leg over, balancing her cute tush at the top of the fence, as she prepared to drop down, “sides, it just feels right for some weird reason.”

“True dat,” I agreed, as she dropped and stuck a grade-A, perfect _super hero landing_.

 _Bravo! Double points for super sexiness!_

When I reached the top, I tossed my bag over and tried to one-up my girl by balancing on the top of the fence, diving off, and doing a flip mid-air. Instead, my feet slipped out from under me, and I ended up eating a pavement sandwich. 

_Smooth, Wade…real smooth…_

“Oh gawd, cupcake! Are ya alright?” Harley asked, rushing to my side.

“Yeah…never…better…” I wheezed, swallowing down what I was pretty sure was one of my front teeth. 

Good thing it would grow right back. I already had enough going against me in the looks department without adding the dental aesthetic of a hockey player into the mix.

“Come on, let’s get goin,” Harley urged, crouching down to help me up.

“Okay, but later I’m going to insist you kiss it and make it all better…and by the way, I hurt **everywhere** ,” I insisted, letting her pull me to my feet before hobbling over to my bag and snatching it back up.

“So, I gotta ask,” Harley ventured, casually taking my free hand, as we began to make our way through the network of alleyways beyond the fence, “How is it yer voice ain’t at all muffled with that mask over yer mouth? Also, how do the eye-parts of yer mask change ta reflect yer emotions, like it’s part of yer face or somethin?” 

I only shrugged.

“No one knows, baby. Just go with it.”


End file.
